


Can I Call You Daddy?

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Steve Rogers, Bearded Steve Rogers, Boot Worship, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Daddy Kink, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, First Time, Leather Kink, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Possessive Behavior, Public Claiming, Shrunkyclunks, Slurs, Twink Bucky Barnes, kicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28589712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: Steve’s patience is rewarded when he spots a boy dancing alone, all long legs and soft-looking hair, in well-cared-for leather pants and boots and a black v-neck t-shirt that reads “Can I call you DADDY?” in bright pink letters that sparkle under the roving lights of the dance floor. Steve’s mouth twists into a smirk and he abandons his beer. He doesn’t join the sinuous dance, but simply leans in to speak in the twink’s ear.“Yes.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 18
Kudos: 231
Collections: STB Bingo: Round One





	Can I Call You Daddy?

**Author's Note:**

> For the Clinks & Clunks square of my STB Bingo card.
> 
> CW: Check the tags, but for clarification: the kicking is very brief and just in the rear. There is use of the f-slur as dirty talk; everyone likes it, but fair warning.

Steve always sticks to the edges of the room in a club like this, keeps his head low until he spots a possible hookup. He’s gotten much better at urban stealth since his first attempt with Natasha that time where they took out half of HYDRA together. (Okay, technically, she took out about three-eights of HYDRA and he managed the other eighth. Technically.) 

He’s good enough, at least, that he can cruise the gay bars without getting caught. He’s not worried about being outed—that ship sailed a year ago when a reporter dared to suggest that Captain America should take an official stand against homosexual marriage during a press conference. But he doesn’t particularly want to be swarmed with attention. It’s better when he can go fishing, as Natasha crudely puts it, and be selective about the person for whom he wants to bait his line.

He keeps his eyes low for the most part, sneaking glances as he sips his beer, and stays in the shadows, relaxing his body to make his form look as unimpressive as possible. (Though that’s hard. He knows what he looks like.) He wears a tight white t-shirt, jeans, boots, and a belt with a large silver buckle. He knows he gets looks, but he doesn’t encourage anyone. He prefers to be the pursuer in these encounters. 

Steve’s patience is rewarded when he spots a boy dancing alone, all long legs and soft-looking hair, in well-cared-for leather pants and boots and a black v-neck t-shirt that reads “Can I call you DADDY?” in bright pink letters that sparkle under the roving lights of the dance floor. Steve’s mouth twists into a smirk and he abandons his beer. He doesn’t join the sinuous dance, but simply leans in to speak in the twink’s ear. 

“Yes.”

The boy’s head pops up, and he looks shocked, but also hungry. He definitely recognizes Steve but he doesn’t gawk, just lets his expression relax into a coy smile as his hands drift to Steve’s waist, his body brushing Steve’s as he continues to dance. “I have you at a disadvantage.”

Steve’s eyebrows go up just a little. His tone is mild but the pitch low as he boldly grabs the boy’s ass with both hands. “You  _ really _ don’t.” The boy gasps, but doesn’t push him away or complain. Steve pulls him closer and lifts a bit to hitch the boy up against Steve’s body. He’s a couple of inches shorter, so this puts them mouth-to-mouth. “But I would like to know your name.”

“Bucky,” the boy gasps, and Steve blinks, but memorizes it.

“Bucky.” And then Steve lays claim to those indecently tempting lips, licking and exploring as Bucky writhes against him. His new beard is soft, thanks to Tony’s advice, and generally a hit with the boys and the girls alike. Only once Bucky starts grinding subtly against him does he pull back a few inches, keeping Bucky’s ass squeezed tight in his hands. “I’m not Captain America or Cap. Not to you. Steve.” 

“Steve.” Bucky smiles, slipping his own hands lower, following the curve of Steve’s lower back and palming his ass. “You gonna fuck me,  _ Steve _ ?” 

He snarls, his competitive side driven out, and quickly scans to make sure no one is in his path to the wall three feet away. Then he lifts Bucky clear up into the air to wrap both legs ‘round his waist and strides into the wall, slamming Bucky’s back against it. “What’s that you call me?” he growls. Bucky shivers hard, but not like he’s scared. (Only a little like he’s scared.)

“Daddy,” Bucky whispers, too quiet, but Steve can hear it even under the thump of the bassline. He thrusts his hips, jostling Bucky against the wall.

“That’s right, baby,” Steve purrs in his ear. “Yes, I’m gonna fuck you. Daddy’s gonna destroy your hole tonight, would you like that?” He’s not sure why, but sometimes Steve gets an intuition for these things that he can’t really explain. 

“Please!” Bucky cries, his voice blending with the music but still loud enough that several people nearby turn and smirk at them. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve groans, steadily thrusting his hips to make Bucky bounce and rub his leather-trapped dick against Steve’s stomach. Steve has such a hardon for that leather, God, he hopes it’s Bucky himself who keeps it in such good shape. He wants to make Bucky care for all his leather, to crawl on his knees and beg to be allowed to keep it clean and shiny, to give it daily spit shines for upkeep. He wants to force Bucky to come on the leather and then punish him into licking it clean. He wants to fuck Bucky until he passes out. But Steve’s been told he can be a bit intense as a top. So he keeps all that to himself for now. Suddenly, though, he’s not satisfied fucking Bucky with their clothes on in the middle of a dancefloor. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests, motioning with a thumb to the door. Bucky nods and slides down to his own feet, following Steve to the coat check and then out of the club. In the relative quiet of the street, their voices sound strangely loud. Bucky is beautiful, and he’s now wearing a proper leather motorcycle jacket that Steve wants to watch Bucky  _ lick _ . He is getting this boy out of these clothes if it kills him. “I’m in Bed-Stuy. Half an hour by train, forty minutes on foot. You have a place closer?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Flatbush. Roommate.” He eyes Steve speculatively, then steps in quick and close, both hands splayed on Steve’s chest. “How fast can you run with me on your back,  _ Daddy _ ?” His voice is a lilting purr, and Steve grins at the challenge.

They make it in seven minutes. 

(Bucky still makes Steve promise to bring his bike next time. Steve promises that he can’t wait to see Bucky straddling it. He assumes “naked” is clearly implied.)

“Are you gonna get in trouble if I’m loud?” Bucky smirks, leading the way into the apartment. Steve enjoys the view. 

“Not with my landlord. Barton owns the building.”

“Oh. Sweet.”

“Hawkeye might shoot you on the way out if we carry on too late, though.”

“...I thought you said  _ no  _ trouble with your landlord?”

“Hawkeye… It’s a long story. Anyway. You gonna be a slut for Daddy, baby?” Steve switches gears effortlessly, catching Bucky by a fistful of that lovely soft brown hair. 

Bucky mewls like a kitten, arching against the hold. “Please,” he whines. 

“Yeah, on your knees now, sweetheart.” Steve guides him down, letting him kneel at Steve’s feet, and then he stands up straight again, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well? These boots won’t lick themselves.” 

He’s wearing his motorcycle boots, heavy black engineer’s boots with silver hardware. They’re cleaner than his combat boots or the ones he wears with his uniform, though the soles aren’t pristine after walking to the club and back. Bucky licks with notable enthusiasm, pressing himself down to the floor and bathing the entire surface of the leather with his tongue, really going for it. He moans and writhes against the floor, stripping his jacket off without pause and tossing it towards the sofa. Steve can’t stop himself from putting the other boot down on Bucky’s back as he works. The boy only moans louder, and Steve almost hopes that Kate  _ can _ hear, hear what a moaner he has down here. Steve’s always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, though Clint would kill him for the thought. 

Bucky starts to work his body like he’s dirty dancing, arching as high as he can with the weight on his back to lick higher up the calf, then pushing his ass back like he’s trying to hump the floor. It’s hot, and Steve rewards him with a few solid thumps of his boot against the boy’s luscious ass. Then he plants his foot again and nudges Bucky to switch to the dry boot, watching him spit shine the leather and moan like he’s having one continuous orgasm. The sounds are particularly obscene when his tongue is out, distorting everything into one flat vowel. When Steve gets impatient he kicks Bucky gently onto his back, then bends down and swoops him up off the floor in a deadlift. He doesn’t put him down, either, carrying Bucky straight to his bedroom.

“Tell me what you like, baby. You want me to treat you sweet? Want me to treat you  _ mean _ ?” Bucky shivers.

“Both, both is good,” he mumbles in a tone like he’s quoting something. Steve doesn’t worry about the reference, just bears Bucky down to the bed and pins him with his weight, after ripping the t-shirt that started the whole thing right off his body. It’s a risky move with a first date, but Bucky can wear something of Steve’s home, and even if this is a one-night stand Steve selfishly doesn’t  _ want _ any other men taking the opportunity he did. Fortunately, Bucky doesn’t complain, obviously caught up in the moment.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” Steve murmurs. “Treat you like my twinky little princess. Daddy’s little faggot.”

Bucky gasps out loud and jerks under Steve’s body. 

Steve’s improvising with his dirty talk, but it’s clearly working. “You gonna come like a faggot? With Daddy’s dick in your ass?”

“Fuck, please,” Bucky gasps, “fuck me Daddy, i need it in my hole.”

“Need what? My cock or my come?”   


“Oh… oh shit, yeah… you can’t get STIs, can you? Can you transmit them?”

“No, but you don’t need to trust me,” Steve quickly reassures him. “I have condoms.”

“Tony Stark believes you can’t transmit diseases? Bruce Banner?”

“Yeah, of course. They verify everything independently.”

“All right then. Science nerds trust science nerds,” Bucky says like it’s something sage. “So given that… I  _ really _ need your come in my hole, Daddy.” He gives Steve a wicked smile and a roll of his hips for good measure. 

Yep. Steve is going to wreck him.

That’s just all there is to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve has dicktuition.
> 
> (Also I am certain that at some point Steve's gonna ask Tony to stay out of his own private garage for an hour so he can fuck Bucky over his bike wearing nothing but chaps and a leather vest and a cute little leather cap, all of which Steve will buy with the credit card he hardly ever used until Bucky showed up...)


End file.
